Monthly Archives: June 2007

kip /kɪp/

Posted on June 24, 2007 | 1 Comment

(Chiefly British)
–noun 1. a place to sleep; bed.
2. sleep.
–verb (used without object) 3. to sleep or nap.

[Origin: 1760–70, in sense “brothel”]

Sorry to be slow getting more Scrabble-worthy little words out. Here is a good one for us all to covet. Ah, to kip, perchance to dream; I never get to kip enough in my own kip; oh, honey, how about a long kip??

All warmed up now for those Scrabble invitations to come rolling in……. :D

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Posted in words

a snapshot from my dating life…..

Posted on June 22, 2007 | 4 Comments

stmqui070623.jpg

Ah, those were the days. If I’ve learned nothing since then, it’s how to make someone else pay! And pay. And pay.

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Posted in growth, marriage

wha dis triangle plugged into wall?

Posted on June 20, 2007 | 4 Comments

img_2943.jpgTHIS time, I can’t blame Kid. She has always been touchy-feely, as if born partially blind. I should have anticipated this. I was so worried about my house entering a new, blue period that I forgot about the HOT IRON.

There we were being creative, for once. For Father’s Day, Kid and I put her squirmy little hand prints on aprons for her dad and my dad. She also painted a pufferfish closely resembling the whale in Moby Dick. Then, she pressed her hand solidly on the iron. This is why we don’t get more creative.

Her brain: hmmmm, wha dis tang which I never see in all my four year of life? Hmmm. Must inspect. Handle. Hard. Cord. Long. Triangle. Smooth. [then, the one second delay-reaction of pain signal reaching the brain and traveling back down to the nerve endings] Hot!!!!!!!!!! WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Art project was postponed for ice/wet compress on her hand and cuddlings. A blister about fish oil pill size (hey, you can make your own reference points on your own story) formed, but for privacy’s sake, it is not shown here. And for my own legal protection.

The next morning, post burning, she merrily displayed the back of her hand to me, saying “see, my boo boo is all better now, mom!”

Yeah, too bad you burned the palm of your hand.

Silver lining: Daddy upon being informed of her injury promised to bring home TWO presents to make her feel better. Days later, when upset about a new catastrophe, she suggested that I tell Daddy on the phone that “well….a present would be good.” Great. A lesson ending with more gifts for her.

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Posted in brilliant ideas, kid

eructation \ih-ruhk-TAY-shuhn\

Posted on June 19, 2007 | 2 Comments

noun:
The act of belching; a belch.

Ignatius belched, the gassy eructations echoing between the walls of the alley.
– John Kennedy Toole, A Confederacy of Dunces
Eructation comes from Latin eructatio, from eructare, from e-, “out” + ructare, “to belch.”

Did you know this one? Sounds good, right? If you have at least one kid and a male over the age of….4, you will no doubt have eructation contests in your home. Now you have an almost dirty sounding word to use to tell them to stop it!

And did you notice the Latin root, ructare? So crude so long ago, they needed a word. Oh, Bickus Dickus, times have not changed.

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Posted in words

Good-bye, SpongeBob. Nice knowin’ ya.

Posted on June 18, 2007 | 4 Comments

250px-spongebob_square.pngWe had a nice visit with Grandpa in Bellingham this past Father’s Day weekend, once we got through the traffic around Everett, Home of the Red Brake Light. It was extra nasty this time and doubled our regular trip time. Good thing we all like to be trapped in an unmoving car for three hours.

At the end of the weekend, we brought back a new friend. SpongeBob. SB was obtained by Kid after she surprised herself by untwisting a doggie balloon animal purchased for her at the farmer’s market (where, I might add, the sign in front said “No Dogs Allowed” — outrageous!!). She was not happy. What do you then? Buy her another balloon later, of course. She was at Grandpa’s, after all.

img_2911.jpgHere’s SB sailing around while we waited for the ferry back to Bainbridge Island.
img_2920.jpgI think he tried to get away at one point even then.

It was a friendship doomed to fail, as most helium-based ones are, particularly in the hands of a three-year-old Kid. Not surprisingly, after numerous warnings from Mom and Dad, Kid took SB outside. You could have counted it down…..five….four….three…two…one. Not five minutes after our arrival, SB slipped out of Kid’s grasp and took flight. Never to be seen again. Bu-bye, SpongeBob.

It’s a fine line trying to teach the lesson of not being attached to material things when they, for example, slip out of your hand after you have been warned about 17 dozen times, versus not abusing perfectly good junk into garbageness. Sometimes, I wish more of her toys were filled with helium.

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Posted in growth, kid